


Two Coffeeshops, Both Alike In Dignity

by theubiquitousnoodle



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Starbucks, Swearing, idk. stuff will probably happen, rating as mature even though it is pretty tame atm, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theubiquitousnoodle/pseuds/theubiquitousnoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercutio showed Benvolio his Starbucks cup. On the side, in scribbly sharpie, were two words:</p><p>Fuck you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little something I started for my short story unit in writer's craft. 
> 
> Basically, the concept is that the Capulets work at Starbucks and the Montagues work at Second Cup, and there's a great big rivalry between the two coffeeshops. Meanwhile, Mercutio runs around fucking shit up and not paying for his drinks. Of course.
> 
> I'll probably expand upon it over the summer. Feedback would be appreciated!

In spite of his many endearing qualities, Mercutio could get really, _really_ annoying. Today, he’d decided to drag Benvolio into Starbucks with him after their morning French class. Even though Benvolio worked at the Second Cup down the road, and setting foot into a Starbucks was akin to fraternising with the enemy. Just standing in the entrance, Benvolio felt like he was trespassing. But he had always been a sucker for Mercutio’s madcap adventures, so he shrugged it off and followed quietly behind his best friend as he swaggered up to the counter to order a frozen drink.

It was Tybalt Capulet, the owner’s son, who was standing behind the counter as Mercutio leaned his lanky frame against the glass of the pastry display. Tybalt was cleaning with a surly expression on his face and pretending not to notice that he had a customer. He put on a laudable performance of furiously scrubbing at a percolator until Mercutio cleared his throat and spoke. “Hey. Hi there. Could I get a small frappe?”

Tybalt glared up at him. “This is Starbucks. I think you mean a tall frappuccino.”

Mercutio paused to consider. Benvolio could practically see the twinkle in his eye, even though he was standing behind him. “Hmm. Nope, I’m definitely in the mood for a frappe right now. A small one.” He smirked.

Tybalt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you a small frappe if you don’t order something that’s on our menu.”

“Oooh, bilingual, are we? Clever.”

Tybalt stopped pretending to clean and looked Mercutio dead in the eye. “Order or get out.”

Mercutio grinned. “Hmm. Okay, as much as it pains me, when what I really wanted was a small frappe – I suppose a tall frappuccino will have to do. One tall frappuccino, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Mercutio shot Benvolio a conspiratorial smile, and Benvolio shook his head a little as he smiled back. Now he understood why they had gone to Starbucks instead of just stopping by Second Cup. Mercutio took every opportunity he could to goad Tybalt Capulet, and catching him while he was at work and couldn’t get back at him without breaking employee code was pure gold.

After paying for his drink and picking it up where the scowly barista had left it on the counter, Mercutio turned and made his way outside. Benvolio followed him onto the sidewalk, and they walked around aimlessly for a bit.

“You know, you could’ve at least left a tip,” said Benvolio. “Or, like, not harassed the employees. Why do you always have to go around starting shit, anyway? You don’t even work for the competitor.”

“My heart belongs to Second Cup, and thus I must despise all who affiliate themselves with Starbucks.”

“If your heart is so true to Second Cup, you could show it by actually paying for your frappes once in a while. You’ve got quite the tab going, dude.”

“…Yeah, okay, so maybe I’m not so devoted to Second Cup. It’s more like a casual fling. Friends with benefits.”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m kidding. You know me. As you so aptly pointed out just now, I like starting shit. And besides, paying for food goes against my, uh, values. I’m too bohemian for that. I’m a free spirit.”

“Free spirit doesn’t mean free coffee. The manager is going to catch on eventually, and it’s my ass that’s on the line if he knows I’m giving free shit to friends.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll start paying for shit. I wouldn’t want to get your ass in trouble. It’s a cute ass.” Mercutio winked, and Benvolio swatted at him with his book bag. “And hey, if it makes you feel any better about my reckless taunting, that Capulet bastard got the last word this time. Or words, as the case may be.”

“Huh?”

Mercutio showed him his Starbucks cup. On the side, in scribbly sharpie, were two words:

_Fuck you._

–

By the time Benvolio got to Second Cup, Romeo had already been there for six hours. Since he didn’t have any classes on Fridays, he always took the opening shift. He figured it wasn’t too bad. Things got a little busy around noon, but it was already starting to die down when he heard Benvolio come in the back door.

“Hey, Ben,” he called. “How you doing?”

“Not bad,” said Benvolio. He appeared a few moments later, his shirt a little wrinkled, but otherwise looking presentable. “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good,” said Romeo. “Rosaline came in at around seven forty-five. She ordered a medium green tea frappe and a breakfast muffin, and she was wearing this really cute crop top with a flower on it, and –”

“Wait, dude, isn’t that the chick who never ended up texting you?”

Romeo looked a bit uncomfortable. “Uh. Yeah, but she probably just forgot. We totally connected when I gave her my number last week. I mean, it’s like, meant to be. This is the one. Anyway, she had her hair done up in this really pretty headband, and I told her…”

Benvolio made a careful expression of polite interest as he tuned him out. Between Romeo and Mercutio, Benvolio could never get a word in edgewise with his friends. He didn’t really mind; Mercutio was funny, and Romeo’s life was a bit of a soap opera, so at least it was sometimes entertaining. Now, however, there was nothing Benvolio wanted more than to get through his shift in peace.

It was half an hour later that his phone buzzed in his pocket. There were no customers to see him slacking on the job, and nobody was around but Romeo, so he took it out and saw that he had a new text from Mercutio. He read it, raised an eyebrow, and answered.

Mercutio: dude guess what

Benvolio: do i want to know?

Mercutio: my brother got invited to a house party

Mercutio: at the CAPULETS

Mercutio: and im gonna go

Mercutio: and you and rom should totally come with

Benvolio: … youre joking, right?

Mercutio: would i joke with you

Benvolio: yes. yes, you joke with me all the time

Mercutio: okay fair. would i joke about a thing like this? an opportunity to tease hotleatherjacket mcgrumpyface in his own house? at his own house party? with my own best friends in tow?

Benvolio: i guess not

Benvolio: but if you want to be around him so badly, you could just. yknow. ask him out on a date or something. thats how most people show their interest

Mercutio: haha. fuck you

Mercutio: so are you in?

Benvolio: yeah okay. but i have the closing shift, so i cant come until late

Mercutio: its cool. val and i will pick up rom and you can meet us later

Benvolio: okay. want me to be the dd?

Mercutio: yeah. i plan on getting nicely smashed.

Benvolio: okay. see you then

Benvolio sighed. He knew he was getting himself into another madcap adventure. He could feel it. Oh, well. At least it would be interesting. Maybe it would even get Romeo to shut up and stop thinking about Rosaline for an evening.

–

Jules rolled her eyes. She had taken the closing shift at Starbucks, even though she had a party to get to. Not that her parents knew about that. Her father had come in to check on the cafe before leaving for the weekend, and it turned out he had a secondary agenda. He had also come to remind his daughter that one of his sponsor’s sons had taken a liking to her, and that it would be well within her interests to show a little affection back.

“Dad, I don’t want to go out with Paris. He’s boring.”

Her father frowned. “It’s just one date. You can see how you feel after that. Paris is a suitable young man for you, unlike those trashy uni boys who hang around here. And besides, he’s a business connection – his father is a major sponsor for our franchise.”

“So you’re pimping your teenage daughter out to some vapid, preppy twenty-six-year-old just because you want, what? Some kind of money deal?”

“Language, young lady!”

“Well, I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Juliet, don’t be ridiculous. You know it’s not like that at all.”

“Yeah, except it really, really is,” she said with a snarl. “And stop calling me Juliet. It’s Jules now.”

“That sounds like a French man’s name.”

“Well then I guess that makes me a perfect match for a guy called Paris, doesn’t it.” With that, Jules turned around and finished cleaning the counter, ignoring her father’s expression of consternation.

Mr. Capulet sighed. Teenagers. He picked up his keys and headed towards the door. “I’m leaving to pick up your stepmother, and then we’re going to the airport.” He paused, but he got no response from his daughter. “Don’t you want to say goodbye? We won’t be back from visiting Abuela until Monday.”

Silence.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you close.”

–

The party was in full swing by the time Benvolio arrived. The music was blasting pretty loudly, and all sorts of people he didn’t know were dancing and talking and drinking. Not for the first time today did Benvolio feel ill at ease for being on somebody else’s turf. He swallowed that feeling, though, and made his way through the crowd to find his friends.

Mercutio was pretty easy to spot. Benvolio could hear his voice as soon as he entered what seemed to be the living room. From the sound of it, he’d had a couple beers too many, and he’d found his Capulet hate crush and started picking a fight. As Benvolio got closer, he could see that the two of them were holding beer cans and sneering at each other. They were practically nose to nose.

“Hey Tybalt,” Mercutio slurred, his smile smirkier than ever. “You short little Capulet fuck. How tall’re you? Five foot four? Five five?”

“I’m five six and a half, fuckface.” It sounded like Tybalt was drunk, too.

Mercutio snorted. “ _Romeo’s dick_ is five six and a half!”

“Why would you know about Romeo’s dick? Are you fucking Romeo? Are you fucking _fucking_ that fucking Montague?”

This was either going to end in an angry makeout or a full-on brawl, and Benvolio didn’t want to stick around long enough to see either. He was beginning to regret volunteering to be the designated driver; he was much too sober for this. Deciding to find someone who was less hammered to hang out with, he went looking for Romeo and found him in the kitchen.

Romeo was standing alone, nursing a wine cooler. “Hey, man,” he said when he saw Benvolio. “Good to see you.”

“Hi,” said Benvolio. He found a sealed can of Coke on the counter and decided to claim it. “How’s it going?”

“Really great,” Romeo gushed. “I just saw the most gorgeous girl I’ve seen in my life! And I wanted to ask her to dance with me, because, like, I felt a vibe, you know? This. This is going to be the one. For real this time. But I was scared she might say no, and then she left the room, but I just saw her come back in again, and– oh, good, she’s not talking to anyone! I’m just gonna–”

Benvolio looked where his puppy-eyed friend was headed. Across the room was a girl in short shorts and a tank top with a red party cup in her hand. Her hair was buzzed short on one side and came down to her shoulders on the other, and it was dark and curly, just like Tybalt's.

Benvolio blanched.

Oh, _fuck_ no.

Romeo Montague was going to ask Jules Capulet for a dance.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio was going to be the life of this party, even if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Party time.

“Hey, um…”

Jules turned around. A boy was standing next to her. He was a couple of inches shorter than her, though he looked like he was university-age, and he was holding a bottle of some fruity cooler drink and gazing at her with a dazed expression on his face. He was actually pretty cute, dreamy smile and all. He had long eyelashes and straight, black hair that was styled kind of hipsterishly; not that she was in any position to make fun of hipster hair, given the undercut that she was currently sporting. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of very nice arms, and…wow. Okay, so he was definitely more than pretty cute. This guy was a bona fide _handsome young man_. Why was he talking to her?

He seemed at a loss for words. Jules cleared her throat. “Um…hi?”

“Hi.” He looked downright bashful. Was it the alcohol, or was he always like this?

“You, uh.” Now she was stumbling over her words, too. “You want something?” Damn it, of all times to be ineloquent.

The boy’s eyes widened. “Ah! Yes, um, yeah, I mean…I just wanted to say that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and, um, ooh gosh, I was wondering if you’d like to maybe dance with me?”

What a dweeb. Why was her heart beating so quickly? “Oh…okay! I mean, sure.” His face looked like it was going to break, he was smiling so widely. Jules realised that she was smiling, too. She finished her drink and put down her cup. “Okay. Fuck yeah. Let’s do this thing.”

\--

Romeo didn’t know if his brain was foggy from drinking or if it was simply the magical rush of true love at long last, but he was so happy, he felt like he could cry. For her part, the girl seemed to be on cloud nine. They moved together until everything else seemed to disappear, and then she grabbed his hand and he followed her down some stairs and through a door, and suddenly they were outside. The grass was wet, and Romeo realised that he was only wearing socks on his feet. He looked at the girl, and saw that she was unstrapping her shoes. She stepped out of them and tossed them aside. “There,” she said.

“Hm?” He looked at her, and realised that their eyes were level now. Not that he’d been complaining, but now that she was a little shorter …

“Now I’m the perfect height for kissing.”

\--

It had been an interesting night for Tybalt Capulet. That is, if one’s definitions of ‘interesting’ was ‘really weird, as well as boner-inducing at the worst possible moments’. He’d gotten out of work as usual and gone home to shower and change for the party. Then Sam and Greg had come over with huge cases of beer they’d bought cheap and lugged across the provincial border, and the pre-party boozing had commenced. By the time more guests had arrived, Tybalt was already well on his way to being buzzed. Then, when that smirking friend of the Montagues had shown up and started drinking _Tybalt’s beer_ and joking with _Tybalt’s friends_ and making _Tybalt’s_ _party_ exponentially more fun than it had been before his arrival, Tybalt had started drinking at a ferocious pace. Not to be outdone, Mercutio had downed beer after beer (“I don’t care if your brother is friends with my half-sister, bring your own fucking alcohol if you’re going to drink at my fucking party!” Tybalt had snarled) and had mocked and teased him to the point where Tybalt wasn’t sure if he was more angry or aroused by the tall, lanky boy in the ratty t-shirt whose head was thrown back in laughter, his jeans sinfully tight and oh god ugh why was this happening. Why was he attracted this asshole, and why wasn’t he able to act like a normal human being around the guy he liked instead of sneering and being an asshole right back? Tybalt couldn’t decide if he wanted to smack that foul mouth or to kiss it. Maybe both.  Either way, they had ended up getting way too close as they’d hurled insults at each other with less and less subtlety. And then there was a laugh from someone a few metres away. “Get a room!”

Tybalt didn’t recognise whose voice it was over the noise of the party, but he’d flinched and recoiled. Mercutio may be flagrantly flirtatious, but Tybalt…Tybalt wasn’t like that. Yeah, there had been a few guys, and nobody had been outwardly homophobic about it or any shit like that. But the thought of admitting to being interested in Mercutio? That outrageous dork with his insufferable smirks and his inability to ever take anything seriously? It would be too much. Tybalt would rather die than give Mercutio another reason to mock him.

He scowled and avoided eye contact as Mercutio jovially directed a rude hand gesture at whoever had made the comment. With his eyes fixed pointedly away, he didn’t notice the way Mercutio’s shoulders slumped slightly, or the way his grin was a little pained as he examined Tybalt’s disgusted expression. He did notice when Mercutio grabbed another beer out of a case on the floor and, opening the tab and raising the can to his lips, chugged. Tybalt shoved him hard as he charged out of the room. Beer spilled all over Mercutio’s shirt, but Mercutio just laughed madly as he bent down to get another beer. Mercutio was going to be the life of this party, even if it killed him.

\--

 _Fuck it,_ Benvolio had thought to himself as Romeo and Jules had left the kitchen. There was nothing that was going to save them all from the impending Romeo disaster. He had seen the way those two were looking at each other. He might as well just let Romeo ride the wave of romance and folly. Hopefully, this adventure would end with minimal casualties.

Benvolio finished his pop with one last swig and left the can on the counter where he’d found it, deciding to wander about and see what else was going on. He briefly thought of checking on Mercutio, but decided against it. If Mercutio needed him, he would likely present himself loudly, or else with a stream of drunken texts. Such was the way of their friendship.

Walking through the hall that joined the kitchen and yet another room full of people, Benvolio passed two familiar-looking guys who were laughing loudly. He’d seen them around often enough, though if either of them were in any of his lectures, he wouldn’t know; they seemed to hang around at the university and still manage not to ever actually attend a single class. One of them was called…Sam? Benvolio couldn’t remember the other one’s name. Something monosyllabic. Guh. Grunt. Greg? In any case, they both seemed like massive douchebags, and they hung around with Tybalt. That was enough of a reason for him to walk a little faster until he got into the other room.

Either Benvolio had done a loop around the house and ended up in the same room where he’d found his friend earlier, or the party had migrated, but the shirtless figure dancing with abandon on the table was none other than Mercutio. A small crowd had surrounded him and was laughing and cheering, and Mercutio looked like he had transcended to some other plane of existence as he flailed wildly to the music. Every movement he made was precarious, and he looked like he was going to fall over and hit his head at any moment. Benvolio pushed his way through the mob of people. “Mercutio!” he called.

Mercutio, whose eyes had been closed, opened them and leered down at him. He looked positively unhinged. Benvolio grabbed his hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

Mercutio shook him off. “I’m dancing,” he insisted.

Benvolio scoffed. “I wouldn’t call that dancing.”

“Rude!” At least he was still relatively lucid.

“Seriously. Let’s go.” Mercutio wouldn’t get off the table. “Do I have to text Romeo?”

“Fuck Romeo,” said Mercutio. “Fuck you. Fuck off.”

Benvolio sighed, and dug into his pocket for his phone.

\--

The boy was an _amazing_ kisser. So good that Jules temporarily forgot that she hadn’t even asked for his name yet. After a few minutes, though, he drew back gently, although he kept his hands on her waist. “Um,” he began.

“Yeah?” She blinked. Her face was warm. Had she been doing something wrong? Apart from that one time when she'd kissed Rosaline on a dare, she hadn’t really made out with anyone before. Maybe she was a terrible kisser. 

“I just wanted to, uh, make sure that this is okay? Because, well, I mean, if you hadn’t noticed… I’m pretty drunk. Not super drunk. But like. Drunk enough. But uh, I’m fine with drunk kissing. Drunk is fun for me. But if you’re not, like, I mean, if you want to wait to do this later –”

“I’m good.” She smiled, and breathed a little sigh of relief that he hadn’t stopped because she was doing something wrong. “I’ve only had one drink, so as long as you’re fine, I’m happy to continue.”

She couldn’t really see that well in the dark, but by now she knew that he would be beaming.

 “Cool.” He leaned in and kissed her, and everything was perfect again.

\--

Romeo and the girl were kissing blissfully when his phone buzzed. He ignored it at first, but after a few texts, he had to pick up. “Sorry,” he muttered as they broke apart. “One sec.” His fingers stumbled as he tried type his passcode. His lips were swollen and so were hers, and she had been running her hands through his hair while he’d traced circles on her waist, and oh god, he would do anything to keep kissing this girl. But he couldn’t; he had to see what was wrong.

Benvolio: mercutio is dancing on a table

Benvolio: i need you to come help me stop him

Benvolio: ROMEO

Benvolio: answer your fucking phone

“Shit,” he said to himself.

“What is it?” asked the girl.

Romeo shook his head.“It’s my friend Ben,” he said. “He needs help. I think I have to go back in now.”

“Okay,” she said. “Well, I should probably go inside anyway. You know, socialising and stuff.”

“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Can I have your number? I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Oh, sure,” she said. He listened attentively and typed the digits into his phone.

“And… what’s your name?” He sounded a little bashful again. She giggled.

“It’s Jules. And yours?”

“Romeo.”

“Wait…Romeo?” She sounded incredulous.

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Like. _The_ Romeo?”

“I don’t think it’s a very common name.”

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Well, um. Jules is short for Juliet.”

Oh. Shit. “As in…Juliet Capulet?”

“Yeah.”

“Like…Tybalt’s sister?”

“Yeah.”

He groaned. “Oh, man.”

 “Will you still text me?” Her voice sounded very small.

This was probably going to go very, very badly, but right now, Romeo Montague did not give one single fuck. He leaned in and kissed her gently. “Of course.”

She smiled.

\--

By the time Romeo found them, Benvolio had managed to wrangle Mercutio into the kitchen for a glass of water. He was talking nonsense and trying to make jokes, but hey, at least he was laughing. He wouldn’t be laughing the next morning when the hangover hit. Benvolio and a rather tipsy Romeo guided him back to Benvolio’s car, where he lounged across the back seat and babbled about fairies and dreams and god know what else. Romeo fell asleep in the passenger seat, and Mercutio eventually stopped talking to himself, and Benvolio was finally able to drive in peace. He rolled down the windows, and let the cool night air blow in. He allowed himself to breathe. Nobody was dead, nobody had gotten into any serious fisticuffs, and nobody had gotten arrested. It was all okay.

Benvolio decided to bring Romeo and Mercutio back to his place, figuring that it would be easier at this point than making the stop at the Montague house and potentially waking up Romeo's parents. Mercutio had a gross little dorm room on campus, but he stayed over with Benvolio half the time anyway. Benvolio yawned and smiled a little to himself. He had the most irritating friends in the world, but he’d be damned if he’d have it any other way.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
